


A Bump in the Road

by AdenineTopaz



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: AU, Aftergame, Comfort, Gay, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Panic Attack, Trauma, really weird au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdenineTopaz/pseuds/AdenineTopaz
Summary: Things are eating away at Sammy, but Norman is there to help him.





	A Bump in the Road

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place in an after-game au where basically nobody had to die and they all escaped the studio and live on the surface. let me have my happy au.
> 
> this is for Those.storiez!!! i really hope you like it!!!

     It had been a wild few months for all of them. Henry had managed to get everyone out of the studio, but things didn’t immediately get better. Pretty much all of them were traumatized from being trapped for so long, especially Bendy, Sammy, and Alice. While trapped they had all snapped at some point, and Henry could only guess that a mental break was no fun. But they were recovering now.  
     For a while they lived with Henry, not knowing what to do with their lives, and then they revamped the studio. It was a tough choice, going back to the place they hated. But it was the place they knew best, and they knew that maybe with Joey out of the picture now, things would be different. And they were. Working at the studio was much better with Henry in charge; he wasn’t deranged like its previous owner. Soon they gathered enough money to get their own places, and Bendy, Boris, and Alice lived together, and Sammy and Norman moved into their own place.  
     Of course, even with all these changes for the better, things still seemed to be...stuck. Especially for Sammy. Outside of the insanity, he normally was always a jumpy person. Anxious to get things done, but hardworking and dedicated. However, after this, it was like his anxiety had spiked through the roof. He had constant nightmares, insomnia spells, panic attacks, and even bouts of depression. It felt like it was crippling him, and for a while he relied on one person to keep him afloat.  
     It was a rainy day when Sammy was curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around himself. He didn’t like rain. It was one step away from a thunderstorm, his biggest fear. Just what he needed today. Norman had been trying to talk to him all day, but Sammy just wouldn’t have it. He was in no mood to talk to anyone, not even Norman. He just wanted to be alone.  
     Ever since he’d woken up, he had been getting slammed with memories of being trapped back there, and they wouldn’t go away. They ate away at him, gnawing at his psyche. He’d spent most of the day locked in his room, curled up in bed, trying to think of anything to get them to go away. Then it had started to rain. It sounded louder in his room, so he moved into the living room, where he was now.  
     Norman appeared from the hallway. “Hey, Sammy.” he said.  
     Sammy didn’t reply.  
     Norman stepped closer. “You finally came out of your room.”  
     The corrupted human nodded. He felt the memories prodding at him, crawling up his spine and into his head.  
     “Just...leave me alone, Norman.” he mumbled.  
     Norman’s light dimmed sadly. “Okay.”  
     He walked out of the living room, leaving Sammy alone with his thoughts. His horrible, intrusive thoughts.  
     He couldn’t stop thinking about being trapped. Imprisoned underground for decades with nobody to help him, only made worse by the fact that he was insane. He actually thought he was a prophet to somebody, a simple ink demon who was really nothing more than a cartoon forcefully come to life. He’d been loud and excitable, constantly singing songs for his lord, doing everything to please him.  
     Being trapped didn’t turn him nuts in the first place, but it certainly fueled it. As the years went by he steadily deteriorated, becoming more and more detached from reality, until he could be classified as psychotic, and even then Bendy was freaked out by him.  
     And then there was the sacrifice. How he’d hit Henry over the head with a pipe, then dragged his body into the ritual room and tied him to a beam. All those strange things he’d said, that rhyme that he sang, it all haunted him now. The guilt ate him alive every day, and some days he would break down in tears over what he did. He couldn’t imagine what it did to Henry. He didn’t want to imagine.  
     Sammy felt wetness traveling down his cheek, and he snapped out of it to find he was crying. He sat up and wiped his tears away, but more kept coming. His shoulders heaved with a sob then, and he felt panic start to rise in his chest as the thoughts got worse.  
     The old wood. The records. The dust. The projectors. The quietness. The ink. God, the ink. There was so much of it, and he wanted to get away from it. He looked down at his hands and realized he was made of it, though. How could he escape the very thing he was?  
     His eyes widened, and his breathing quickened and his heart pounded as terror bubbled within him. He looked around and saw the room darken, the walls closing in on him, and suddenly he felt very small in that moment, like anything could crush him in an instant. He clutched one of his suspenders tightly and started hyperventilating, tears streaming down his face, dripping from beneath his mask. His breath hitched with loud sobs as he spiraled down into a full-blown panic attack.  
     Evidently they were loud enough for Norman to hear, because he popped his head into the room to see what was the matter. “Sammy? Are you—SAMMY??”  
     He rushed over to him and sat down beside him, immediately pulling him into a tight hug. “Shhh. Easy, Sammy, easy. It’s okay.” he said softly.  
     The corrupted human gripped him tightly, sobbing and choking. He felt tightness in his chest, like something was grabbing his lungs from the inside out. “I c-can’t breathe—“  
     “Yes you can. You can breathe, Sammy. Take a deep breath.”  
     The Projectionist rubbed his back and nuzzled his neck and shoulder, still shushing him. He scooped him up and held him against his chest, holding him snugly.  
     “It’s okay, Sammy. I’m here.” he soothed.  
     Sammy’s body was racked with sobs, shuddering and heaving. He clung on desperately to Norman, trying to breathe, trying to think, but failing. All he saw was the studio. All he felt was being trapped.  
     “Norman, I-I’m trapped, I can’t get out I’m trapped I’m trapped I’m trapped—“ he sputtered.  
     Norman realized what was going on. “Is this about being in the studio before?” he asked quietly.  
     Sammy nodded quickly, gasping for air.  
     Norman hugged him closer, bumping his lens into his cheek. “You’re not there anymore. We escaped, remember? You aren’t trapped anymore.”  
     Sammy choked on his own words. “I c-c-can’t—can’t get away—f-from the ink—“ he sobbed. “There w-was so much o-of it—“  
     “I know. But that ink is gone. The corrupting ink.”  
     “I’m _made_ of it, N-Norman!!” countered Sammy. “Y-You’re made of it!”  
     Norman was silent for a few moments. “...just because we’re corrupted doesn’t mean we have to live in the past.” he whispered.  
     Sammy looked up at him, and Norman moved his mask to reveal his sad, wet eyes.  
     “W-We don’t...?” he whimpered.  
     “Not at all. Our goal is to move past this. And you’re doing great so far. You’re stronger than you think, Sammy, even if there are a few bumps in the road.” The Projectionist wiped his eyes and nuzzled his cheek.  
     The corrupted human felt his panic lessen a bit, and he shakily reached up to rub the side of Norman’s head. “I’m...strong...?”  
     “Yes. You’re the strongest person I know.”  
     Sammy smiled weakly then, and planted a kiss below his lens. He sniffled and still gasped a little, but he felt himself starting to calm down. The terror in his veins was melting away as he snuggled with Norman, and he placed more kisses on his projector.  
     Norman gently ran a hand down his cheek, and he said quietly, “Do you feel a little better?”  
     Sammy nodded and rested his head against his chest. “Yeah. Thank you, Norman...” he replied, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Y-You always know how to calm me down.”  
     Norman held him closer. “I’m glad. Wanna rest for a little bit?”  
     “Yeah.”  
     Sammy kept his eyes shut, listening to the thumping of Norman’s heart. He tossed and turned Norman’s words over in his mind. Norman was right. Just because their past affected them didn’t mean they had to stay stuck in it. The fight they put up every day was hard, unimaginably difficult, but they both knew deep down they could do it. They wouldn’t let their traumas overcome them. With these thoughts replacing the old ones, Sammy soon drifted off to sleep in Norman’s arms.  
     The Projectionist chuckled quietly and softly pressed his lens into his cheek, kissing him. “Sleep well, Sammy.”

**Author's Note:**

> god i hope you like it


End file.
